


What Could Have Been Lost

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cuddling, Early MSR, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Some angst, UST, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:59:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Post-ep for "Our Town": Mulder and Scully deal with the aftermath of the case.





	What Could Have Been Lost

“Do you want me to start on the report?” They’re sitting in a diner, somewhere out of Dudley, Arkansas, just the two of them and a waitress that pays them no attention. Mulder fiddles with a napkin, tears off little pieces and makes them rain on his plate like confetti. If he really wants to start writing that report, he figures, he’ll have to do it on said napkin. All their belongings are in the trunk of the car, waiting. Haphazardly thrown into their bags when the hotel not so nicely informed them that they’d have to leave. Right now. Scully, mute, sits across from him like a still painting, unmoving yet luminous. A strand of hair clings to the cut on her forehead and she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Mulder leans forward to gently brush it away. Her eyes land on his, alert now.

“Hey.” He smiles softly, but Scully’s face remains stoic. She was fine earlier. She said so, anyway. It dawns on him that maybe, just maybe, she might throw the word at him every now and then without meaning it. “You didn’t hear me, did you?”

“Didn’t hear you?”

“I asked you if you wanted me to start on the report,” Mulder repeats and leans back against the chair. It squeaks softly.

“In here? Why now?”

“It was just…” He wants to do something. Needs to. This case, this throw away case that in the grand scheme of life and their work means nothing, almost cost him Scully. Again. How often will they end up here? Today it’s a sleazy diner, tomorrow it might be a dark, endless road. Today it’s a small cut, a bruise. Tomorrow, though… what is going to happen tomorrow? He told Scully she should take off more time. Ever since she’s come back, to life, to him and their work, danger has clung to her like a bad smell.

“Mulder, why are we here?” Her question gives him pause. He observes her face; her mouth half open in a question she doesn’t know how to ask yet. Her eyes are exhausted, seem empty. Why are they here, indeed. Because of me, he thinks. As always. One day he’ll lose her, he thinks as she blinks at him. One day he’ll be too late. He’ll sit in a diner like this, his guilt gnawing and tearing at him, without her. That’s why they’re here; as fine as she seemed early, Mulder is anything but. His hands shaking after he got her back into the car, barely able to hold the steering wheel, he stopped at the first sign of civilization. That’s not something he cares to admit to her right now, though.

“We need to find a place to stay for the night. There aren’t any flights out this late.”

“Please tell me we’re not staying at this diner for the night.” Her face, he notices now, seems a little green. She needs sleep and rest. He suggested a doctor earlier, but she only threw him ‘a don’t be ridiculous, Mulder’ look and he hasn’t mentioned it again. The least he can do is find her a somewhat comfortable room.

“No. But maybe they can tell us where to find a hotel.”

The hotel, it turns out, is just down the road. What the waitress didn’t tell him, however, is that they’re solidly booked. Except for one room. With a double bed. Glancing at Scully, who is out of it again, he nods and carries both their overnight bags inside the small, smelly room.

“Home sweet home,” Mulder mumbles as both bags slip from his hand and land on the carpet with a gentle thud. “You can have the bathroom first, Scully.” With any luck she’ll be asleep once he’s showered. Her answer is a soft hmm and she rummages through her bag before she disappears into the bathroom. Only after the door closes behind her does Mulder take a deep breath. He stares at the bed in front of him. There’s no way they can both sleep in there. Ignoring that particular conundrum for the moment he zips open his own bag to search for something he can wear tonight. A t-shirt and boxers will have to do. A look at the questionable carpet and he sighs. He’s probably touched, and slept on, worse things, he decides.

Scully returns ten minutes later smelling like peaches. She throws him a small smile as she walks over to the bed. Her face freshly scrubbed, the cut on her forehead looks more prominent. One of his hands lands on her arm, the other gently touches the cut. She doesn’t even flinch.

“Doesn’t hurt, Mulder.” Her voice is soft as if to reassure him that she’s fine without saying the words this time. He nods, unable to form any words. Could have lost you, he thinks. Could have lost you again. Before he can make a fool of himself, he grabs his clothes and disappears into the bathroom. He takes his time under the shower, tries to wash off the picture of Scully kneeling on the ground unable to move, trapped like a wild animal. But they refuse to leave and Mulder gives up when the water loses its steam and turns cold.

It takes him a moment to realize that something is wrong when he steps back into the room. Another moment before he notices Scully huddled into the corner by the window. In two quick strides he is by her side and helps her up. She’s shivering, staring up at him with horror in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s all right. It’s me. I’m here. You’re safe.” Scully huffs; a defiant sound that almost makes him smile. The look in her eyes changes, settles.

“Mulder?” Her voice is as unsteady as he feels. He nods, encouraging her to go on. "I, uhm, can you…" She turns, stares at the bed. She’s trying to ask him to sleep somewhere else. Although he hadn’t planned on sharing the bed with her anyway, the unasked question stings just a bit.

“Of course, Scully. I’ll sleep on the floor, I’ll-”

“No, that’s not… not at all what I meant.” She bites her lip as her eyes fill with tears. He’s never wanted to be able to read minds as badly as now. Talk to me, Scully, he pleads with his eyes because his voice isn’t cooperating.

“Can you- could you hold me? Please? Just hold me?” Mulder counts to three before he puts his arms around her and holds her as tightly as he can. If he could, he’d never let go. He’d put her in his pocket and make sure she’d always be safe. She is tiny, so tiny, in his arms and yet not tiny enough to carry around in his pocket. She giggles against his chest as her hand strokes his back; who is comforting who, he wonders briefly.

“I’m glad I don’t fit into your pocket, Mulder,” she whispers against his chest. Oh, he said that out loud. He leaves a kiss on the crown of her head, reveling in her unique scent. “Let’s go to bed, okay? I’d like to forget this day ever happened.” Scully takes his hand and leads him over to the bed like a new, blushing bride. They don’t speak, don’t rationalize, as they both lay down on their respective sides. Mulder turns off the light and as he tries to get comfortable without jostling Scully around, without touching her too much, she scoots closer. Her name catches in his throat as she puts her head on his chest.

“Relax, Mulder,” she whispers with a hand over his thundering heart, stroking softly. “Please just hold me.” Her words feel like a kiss and disappear into the cotton of his t-shirt. Carefully, as if she were made of glass, he slides his arm around her, holds her to him. Just to try it, he closes his eyes. He expects pictures to explode behind his eyes. Scully on the ground, Scully screaming for help. Being too late. Always being too late. But they don’t come. There’s just the faint smell of peaches, the warm weight of Scully against him and the reassuring sound of her even breathing. Tonight he’ll sleep knowing Scully is safe. Whatever happens tomorrow, today he couldn’t ask for more.


End file.
